Frozen
by moms5thchild
Summary: The entire Dunbar clan are together for Christmas for the first time in years. Too bad murder does not take a vacation.
1. Chapter 1

This is a story I thinking about before Christmas. I was going to hold onto it until later this year, but it decided to pour out for Easter. Obviously, my muse cannot tell time. I thank my beta reader for her work correcting my bad spelling.

As usual, I am not making any money from this... or any of my other writing. (damn)

**Frozen**

**Part One**

Ed Graham sucked the frigid air through his teeth and leaned on the gate, "Sure is cold out here."

Jim Dunbar felt the Indiana winter creep down inside him; felt it all the way down to the bottom of his lungs. "Sure is, makes you think all those stories about global warming are just so much… hooey."

"Hooey," laughed the old man, "are you trying to watch your language with your old uncle. Jimmy boy, I've shovelled more shit; of all kinds, than you can imagine."

"Just getting in practice, Uncle Ed, so I don't slip up in front of family tomorrow," Jim could feel Ed's smile.

Jim closed his eyes and breathed in the familiar scents of his uncle's barn. The aroma of hay, the underlying smell of dust and the pungent odour of cow manure all painted pictures in his head of the red sided cattle shed and the black and white Holsteins inside. This was his uncle's world; he was only a visitor who didn't come often enough. This was the first time here since the shooting four that stole his sight four years ago.

"You remember how to milk a cow, Jimmy," Ed asked as he turned to the lean to next the manger.

"Been a long time, but I probably could if I find the milk pail."

"It's in the same place it always; Aunt Jean would shoot me if I changed anything in here." Ed grabbed at Jim's shoulder, "how do I do this?"

"Just relax," Jim moved Ed's hand from his shoulder; gave the arm a little shake to relax it and wrapped his fingers above his uncle's elbow, "just walk normally. Tell me when we come to a door and I'll tell you what to do then. I don't want any bruises or black eyes."

"Kid, every time get together with your brothers you end up with bruises and black eyes." Ed patted the hand that rested on his arm. "Add any you get from the youngsters and you'll need a stretcher."

* * *

Indiana is the land of James Whitcomb Riley, stock car racing and the former Sally Graham. When seventeen year old soprano Sally went to conquer Broadway she never thought she'd come back to Indiana with her tail between her legs twenty years later. Sally never made it to Broadway in anything other than a cleaning crew. It was one of the jobs she got while her husband, Stanley Dunbar, drank himself to death. Then her oldest son, Jimmy, finished high school and signed up for the army. Before he shipped off to basic training Jim told his mother he could take care of himself and maybe it was time she took care of herself. One quick call to Ed and his promise not to say 'I told you so' got Sally and her sons Tom and Rick back home to Indiana. Now she was Sally Parker, married to her high school sweet heart, veterinarian Jeffrey Parker. In Greenfield, Indiana she watched over grandchildren and did all her singing in the church choir.

"Boys," Sally yelped as her grandsons ran through the kitchen, "look where you're going! I almost dropped a bowlful of peeled apples on the floor. That would mean no apple pies."

"Josh, Caleb and Benny won't play with me" Jaime started to whine but pulled up short, "Grandma Sally, we need apple pies."

"Yeah, Ma," Jim was carrying a bright, steel milk bucket as he and Ed came in from the barn, "we need a lot of apple pies."

"What'zat," Jaime asked Jim as he reached for the pail.

Jim lifted the bucket high above the boy, "watch out buddy, this is fresh milk."

"Why isn't it in a carton?"

"That's because Farmer Dunbar got it straight from the cow," came a voice from behind them.

"Ricky," Jim almost dropped the milk as he pivoted round and was engulfed in the wild embrace of Indiana State Trooper, Sergeant Richard Dunbar. "What are you doing here now?"

"Serving and protecting, what else," Rick stepped back and checked his big brother from head to toe. Last time Rick had seen Jim he was trying to get back on the street with the NYPD. He liked what he saw, "Ma, two police sergeants in one family… you must know how to beat sense into your kids."

"I never beat anybody." Sally snapped as she bopped Rick on the head with a wooden spoon. "Lordy, boys, I can see why your wives took off. You both look like something the cat dragged in."

"Yes, Ma," the two police sergeants chorused like guilty school boys.

Aunt Jean sniffed loudly, "Jimmy, you smell of cow. Go get cleaned up. Ricky, your boys are treating their new cousin like he's smells like a skunk. Ricky, you remind those three hooligans it wasn't so long ago that they were in kindergarten and if they can't be nice now they better not expect to come here on Christmas Eve."

The men turned to do what they had been told.

"Nice to know some things never change," Jim smiled.

"Hey, don't encourage them," Rick moaned, "Those two old women have no respect for the law."

After Rick Dunbar convinced his sons to treat Jaime Janssen with a bit or tolerance… or else, he hurried back to his big brother. He found Jim sitting on the white wicker sofa in the sun room, a cup of coffee in his right hand and his left resting on the back of his guide dog, Hank.

"This used to be the back porch. Remember when we'd sit here at night during summer vacations and watch the thunderstorms."

Jim closed his eyes and remembered the place, "yeah, we'd sneak down and count the seconds between the lightning and the thunder. When did Aunt Jean talk Uncle Ed into building this?"

"After he sold off the sugar bush and retired from active farming." Rick sat down next to Jim. "Now he rents this place to the Kowalski's and works as a hired hand during planting and harvesting but he's pretty much a gentleman of leisure." Rick started to laugh gently. "He sits by that damn police radio of his and asks me who did what, where and why can't I do something about it. Man, I am glad he isn't my Captain."

"I have got to get him to my precinct someday. He'd like Marty Russo; they both want to keep me behind a desk." Jim sipped his coffee, "he can't believe I can still work crime scene."

Rick looked closely at his older brother. Jimmy was still tall and lean, but he had that odd way of holding his head that so many blind people seemed to have. Dressed in jeans and a black turtleneck Jim Dunbar seemed more like a teacher than a cop. Rick wanted to ask so many questions.

"Jimmy," the shrill ring of Rick's cell phone interrupted him, "damn, I have to take this."

Jim listened as his little brother fell easily into 'cop talk'. From what he could pick up hearing half the conversation Jim knew Rick had to leave.

"Sorry, Jimmy," Rick apologised as he shut his phone, "some of the uniforms have found an old shed that looks like a chop shop. Seems to be abandoned and the district commander has asked me to supervise until they decide who is going to handle the case."

"Don't worry; it's the job we chose. Next Christmas I'll be sitting in the 27th precinct house in Chinatown being the acting boss man."

Rick was almost out of the room when the idea struck him. "Jimmy, wanna watch how the country cops handle themselves. It's got to be better than sitting here waiting for Christie and Joyce to come back from shopping in Indianapolis."

Jim almost jumped to attention. "You sure I won't get in the way, because I have gotta admit I am going stir crazy here."

"Sure, I'm supervising until the powers that be decide if this is auto theft or organized crime. Just watching some guys in uniform bagging and tagging and making sure they don't corrupt the evidence is all I'll be doing. We'll be back for supper."

"Great, I'll get Hank harnessed and be ready to go when you are." Jim slapped his thigh to command Hank to follow him. "Ask Ma to watch Jaime, okay."

"Uncle Ed will keep all the boys busy… and get one of his parkas to wear. It gets damn cold out in the boonies." Rick rubbed his hands together in glee, "I am finally gonna show you how I work, Jimmy boy."

"Come on Ricky," Jim called from the guest room where Hank's harness and his white cane were, "this is East Armpit, Indiana; what could go wrong."

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for your patience. My beta reader has been ill and I do not like to send my work out without being checked. Glad you are better, D. Also thank you, A. for volunteering to step in. It is nice to know I have friends who are ready to help me.

**Frozen Angels**

Chapter Two

Jim Dunbar was beginning to feel like he was listening to a bad radio play. His brother, Rick, was in the middle of a running phone conversation with the officers already on scene, but with his damn blue tooth connection Jim only heard half the conversation.

"_Yes, you have to wear the latex gloves… leather gloves leaves their own distinctive mark."_

"_I don't give a damn how cold it is; if you touch anything your hand better be covered in latex."_

"_Weren't there boot prints in the snow around the shed, other than those teens looking for a shagging shack? You better have taken pictures of every __damn set of __prints or the next boot print you find is gonna be my boot up your ass." _

"_Keep the civilians separate! I'll do the primary interrogation them when I get there. You did get a search warrant, didn't you? Him? Good, Judge Freaky Framingham will sign a warrant for anything! He's so senile all you would have to say is moon shine and he'd sign his mother away." _

"_Keep Ken Myers away from there. I don't care if he owns the place just give him that damn search warrant and get him the hell away from there." _

Jim felt the car pull off the smooth asphalt road on to plowed fields of the Myers farm. This was rough, rougher than the cobblestones that still covered some New York streets. The frozen furrows were high and hard, jarring his teeth right down to the roots.

"Christ, Ricky, what are you trying to do… prove you need four wheel drive!"

"Jimmy, it's just a corn field, for Christ's sake. I can't help where the crime scene is. You keep this up and I'll turn around and take you back to Uncle Ed's."

Jim made an exaggerated sigh, "I didn't say are we there yet. Oh, by the way, are we there yet?"

Rick snorted, "we're there, just gotta park this thing." Rick glanced at his brother and wondered what to do next. "Jim, can I get you to stay back by the truck until I see what's up?"

Jim bit his lower lip and knew what was going on in his little brother's head. Rick had jumped without thinking when he had invited Jim to the scene. Now he didn't have any idea what to do with his blind brother at a crime scene. "Ricky, I have to take Hank for a walk when we get there so I'll stay out of your way. I gotta thank you for getting me off the farm. If Aunt Shirley tried to feed me one more home made treat I can't find in Manhattan I was gonna start screaming."

Rick Dunbar parked by the three squad cars that were already there and watched as Jim got his dog out of the SUV. One of the officers approached the SUV and stopped his big brother. After a brief conversation Jim turned away from the shed and walked confidently as the guide dog manoeuvred him safely round the rusty car parts. It was time to worry about the chop shop and let Jimmy take care of himself… after he commanded one of the troopers to keep an eye on Jim.

Jim and Hank stepped carefully through the debris that surrounded the shed. There shouldn't have been this much stuff out here. The sound of the wind tossing the bare branches of the trees that surrounded the shed told Jim this place was usually hidden by leaves. Even with the leaf cover gone locals would not have noticed just another old building in a bush lot unless there was something to attract unwanted attention, something like abandoned car parts.

The crunch of snow behind him let Jim know he was being followed. It didn't take much of a guess to know a trooper was watching him. "Officer, are we behind the building here? And how far from the road are we?"

"Well, there are no windows or doors on this side of the shed so it pretty much is the back. It's about a quarter of a mile or so from the road," the surprised man answered without missing a beat.

"Who found the place; did someone notice the car parts from the road?"

"No, sir, the Myers kids on snow mobiles came up here looking for a place to party. Uh, Mr. Dunbar, I don't think I should be talking about an active investigation to a civilian."

"Actually, I'm a homicide detective in New York." Jim heard the intake of breath that told him the man didn't believe him. "Just ask your boss, Sergeant Dunbar, Ricky will vouch for me."

"I believe you, sir, but this is out of your jurisdiction." The man shifted from foot to foot, revealing he didn't believe Jim at all but he would humour him. "I really gotta get back to work."

"You're right; I'm on vacation; but once a cop always a cop. Go back to work, I'll find my way back to the truck and I promise not to get you in trouble with Ricky." Jim smirked when he heard the officer try to suppress a laugh, obviously calling his brother Ricky was news to the locals. "Go ahead, get out; I'll be okay."

Jim waited for the state trooper to walk away before he pulled his cane from the parka's pocket and extended it fully. "Hank, no one can see us now so let's look around. Forward." From then on each time Hank stopped or tried to lead him around something Jim searched with the tip of his white cane and sometimes reached down to feel what was before him. The further the pair wandered into the trees the less the place seemed like an auto junk yard. The thing was, it shouldn't have seemed like a junk yard at all. Any successful chop shop got rid of its merchandise quickly. This place felt as if its occupants had disappeared in the middle of their job.

Hank started to whine and pull Jim back toward the shed.

"Hey boy, what's the matter?" Jim squatted down and crooned to calm Hank down. This was not how his guide behaved. "What do you see? What's got you so worried?"

"Stay, Hank," Jim commanded as he stood up, dropped Hank's harness and leash and stepped forward using his white cane. The first thing he noticed was the ground beneath his feet dipped slightly downward. Tapping ahead with the cane Jim found a narrow trough about three feet wide in front of him. He sidled left, the trough continued on for several feet and Jim could only guess it how far it stretched to the right. Squatting once more Jim patted the earth in front of him. It had very little snow in the dip; most of it blew past to debris that should not be there. Jim didn't have a pair of latex gloves with him, but he did have some plastic grocery bags Uncle Ed gave him to clean up after Hank. He slipped one over his hand he reached out in front of himself. A stick jutted up slightly from the ground, Jim ran his hand up the smooth surface to the rounded end. It wasn't a stick; it wasn't a car part or an axe handle or anything that might find its way to a bush lot. It felt like a bone, a human femur if Jim was correct. Ricky was going to be really annoyed with him now.

"Hey, you over there, what have you got hold of?" the irate voice of Ken Myers startled Jim. "That isn't mine, what ever it is. Those damn cops got no right to be here. You got no right to be here. Get off my farm!"

Someone get the civilians away from this crime scene, Jim wanted to yell at the nosy man. Just what Jim needed now that a body had been found was civilians on his crime scene. Yet this wasn't his crime scene. Jim Dunbar was a civilian here. Oh god, Christy was going to be way past annoyed. They were here to have a nice relaxing Christmas with the family and he just couldn't stop being a cop. Ho ho ho

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

**Frozen **

Chapter 3

The pale wintry sun set hours ago, but the corn fields of the Myers farm were bathed in the artificial brilliance of high powered search lights. Indiana's finest had its forensics techs comb the shed, the cluttered yard around it and the plowed fields inch by solitary inch searching for anything that would identify the five bodies buried in that long, shallow grave.

Jim Dunbar leaned against a police van as he sipped coffee in a cardboard cup. Hank whined; he really needed to go for another walk. Jim didn't even ask to Hank take out because he knew Rick's boss would not let him move from this spot. Besides, if he moved he would never be able to hear Captain Jefferies tear his baby brother a new one.

_Dunbar, what in Hell made you think you could bring a civilian to a crime scene?_

_I don't care if he's God's other son, he's blind. You brother's __**blind **__and he's the one who finds the largest mass grave in Indiana since 1900. Jesus Christ._

_If you think this makes us look like anything other than the god damn Keystone Kops. _

"Mr. Dunbar," the slight, soprano voice of a young trooper interrupted Jim's eaves dropping, "would you like another cup of coffee?"

"That's Sergeant Dunbar."

"He's talking to Captain Jefferies, sir."

"No, Officer, I'm Detective Sergeant Dunbar with the New York City Police Department. If you get confused, just remember I'm the handsome one." A small huff of laughter told Jim he'd made his point without seeming like a real jerk about it. "I think eight cups of coffee is about my limit. When are Ricky and I going to get out of here?"

The young trooper shuffled her feet. "Captain Jefferies wants to debrief you at the district office in Pendleton."

"Pendleton?" Jim tried to dredge up any memory he had on that town, nothing came up. "That's further away than Indianapolis, isn't it?"

"Mr… Sergeant, please, Captain Jefferies is a very busy man and he has - he has assigned the other Sergeant Dunbar to take charge of the scene. Your brother will probably be here for the rest of the night."

"And a Merry Christmas, everyone," breathed Jim as he took another sip of his coffee.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing, Officer, just remembering why I'm here," Jim tilted his head to the left, "I guess there is no use trying to wait for my brother to finish." He waited for an answer, smirking. "Shaking your head is pretty useless, officer."

The young trooper had the good grace to groan before she continued. "If you would please come this way, I'll take you to headquarters myself."

"I'd take her up on that offer," Rick's voice came loud into Jim's ear. He jumped, crushing his cup and sending scalding coffee to soak his woolen gloves. "Did I scare you, big brother?"

"You're an idiot," Jim spat as he peeled the hot, stinging gloves from his hands.

"Go with nice Trooper Smith. I called Uncle Ed to tell him what happened and I'll make sure you get back to the farm tonight."

Jim tipped his head to the side, "I can hear your boss talking to the press from here. Ricky, is he bucking for a promotion?"

"Everyday in every way," Jim could hear the grin in his brother's voice, "and don't call me Ricky in front of the troops."

* * *

"Mr. Dunbar, can I get you anything? A cup of coffee… or maybe a bit to eat," Sitting behind his desk in the Pendleton district office the Captain decided to be gracious. Yet Jefferies sounded oily even when he was playing at being pleasant.

"Since you've made sure I wasn't with my family for dinner it would be appropriate, Mr. Jefferies."

"That's Captain Jefferies."

"It's Sergeant Dunbar," Jim reached down to make contact with Hank. "My partner needs a meal and a walk. Oh, excuse me; a walk was what started this, wasn't it. Hank is quite the investigator, isn't he?"

Jefferies no longer pretended pleasant. "Your brother is going to be officially reprimanded, if not more, over bringing you to an active crime scene."

"Sergeant Dunbar wasn't doing anything other than get me out of the house while my wife was shopping with his." Jim leaned forward, "you trying to deflect any fallout from yourself to my brother over this is not going to happen. If there is shit to hit the fan I will make sure you get splashed and I don't even have any idea what this is about."

Jim could almost hear the wheels turning in Jefferies head before the man answered him. "You have organized crime in New York, those famous Italian and Russian mobs that Hollywood makes the movies about. There are other mobs fighting each other for their little piece of the pie; the most famous being the Bandidos and the Hell's Angels."

Jim's jaw dropped, "motorcycle gangs?"

"This isn't the big, bad city. Motorcycles cover a lot of ground quickly and efficiently. The Hell's Angels have just as many lawyers and PR people as the Massuccis or the Gambinos. What you found was some 'bodies' who decided to work outside the gang."

Jim rubbed the bridge of his nose; this was giving him a headache. "I'm just lucky, I guess. Finding a shallow grave wasn't part of my vacation plans."

"But you did find it, and now I have to wonder if who ever planted those bodies might want to find out what you know." Jefferies stood up and started pacing. "While you may not be local, your family is. Once you go back your brother Richard, our Sergeant Dunbar, will be the logical target for whoever killed those men."

* * *

"You have got to tell me who makes these burgers, Officer Smith," Jim said as he finished his second one.

"My father makes them at a little place called Pop's Corners. He's the Pop in Pop's." The trooper said as she crammed some French fries into her mouth. "And please call me Nellie."

"Only if you call me Jim," he answered while he wiped his hands on the cloth towels Smith had appropriated from Captain Jefferies washroom.

The loud buzzer at the front counter sounded in the office interrupting the dinner conversation. Officer Smith went out to see who was there. "I bet this is your ride, Jim."

"Looks like Ricky finally came through, Hank." Jim stood, pulled on his coat on and slapped his thigh to signal Hank to get ready to work.

"Jim, I'm here to take you back to Ed's"

Dunbar's head shot up, "Tommy?"

"Please call me Tom. The only one who still calls me Tommy is Rick." The youngest Dunbar shifted from foot to foot. "Does that dog shed? Does he need anything to lie on in the back seat? Margaret is extremely allergic to dog dander."

Jim just shook his head remembering how annoying his sister-in-law and all of her problems were. "Hank is brushed daily and bathed weekly; Maggie would have to stick her head into his fur to work up a sneeze."

Tom Dunbar let out a long, low sigh. "Jim, I'm not here to argue. I'm just going to take you to Uncle Ed's and then see you there tomorrow for the Christmas Eve party." Tom began to nervously jingle the change in his pocket. "Hopefully we can get together again before you head back to the city."

"Sure, if you can manage," Jim couldn't keep the sarcasm from his voice as he grabbed the stiff handle of Hank's harness, "it's only been five years since we last saw each other." He turned toward Trooper Smith, "Thanks for dinner, Nell, it was great. Tommy, head out and we'll follow you."

Officer Smith shook her head as she watched the brothers leave the office. All three Dunbar men looked alike, but Thomas Dunbar was nothing like his older brothers. Once they were gone she pulled out her cell phone to call her father. It was time for Smith to head home too.

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you for all the reviews. You don't know how much each one means to me. Also thank you to Alice, my beta reader, she makes me switch to American terms even when they start out sounding very Canadian.

**Frozen**

Chapter 4

"Margaret and I believe that Christmas day is for our immediate family, our children. Andrew and Jessica are still young enough to believe in Santa Claus but Kathleen knows her parents are Santa. It is a bit annoying just how smug she looks when the others start writing their 'Dear Santa' letters."

Jim rolled his eyes, "smug children can be very annoying. Whatever happened to calling the kids Andy, Jessie and Kat?"

"Those nicknames were babyish; once they start school we call them their proper names. Now that Margaret's father is running for the state senate she thinks the Dunbars should have names they can be proud to use as adults."

"So I guess it's just too damn bad you got stuck with Thom-ass."

Tom slammed on the brakes, turned and snarled. "What the hell do you think you know about me? You are ten years older than I am. You haven't spent more than a week with me since I was a kid. I am high school teacher; not a cop and proud to be a citizen of Indiana and not a New Yorker. I don't need or want anything from you and the only reason I'm driving you now is plain, simple Christian charity."

"Fine," Jim fumbled through the pockets of his borrowed parka trying to locate his cell phone, "you can drop Hank and me off anywhere you damn well please."

"What," Tom sneered, "are you going to call a cab, a Yellow Cab maybe, to take you where you want to go? Well, this isn't your world and you are going to have to depend on stupid little me." The car revved up and Tom pulled off the road onto the laneway of a deserted farm house. "You can take your attitude and…"

Before Tom could finish his rant both men noticed something approaching them; the loud, mechanical roar of snow mobiles following the same road as the car. Tom snapped off the lights and twisted to watch for what was coming. Passing the laneway was a line of six black machines each carrying two black clad men; one driving and the other holding a rifle.

"What is it," Jim demanded in a short, hard tone.

"Teenagers, obviously out to cause trouble this late at night," Tom clamped his hand over his mouth in the hope that his blind brother would not notice him gasping in fear. "Margaret would never forgive me if I did not get home before ten, so will you just shut up and let me take you home."

"Why not," Jim smirked, "you might grow another vertebra or two in your brand new backbone." With that Jim pulled the parka hood over his face and determinedly ignored his baby brother.

Richard Dunbar sat in his SUV, sipped another cup of scalded coffee and waited for a return call from Joyce. She was the best at organizing anything and Rick knew she would get someone to Pendleton to make sure Jimmy got back to the farm. It didn't matter that the techs were almost finished, the paper work would take hours and he would not get back there until the party tomorrow. Rick remembered the first call was so simple.

"_What were you thinking of,"_ Joyce demanded when Rick phoned from the Graham farm the first time, _"Jimmy is going to get cold and bored and he's annoying enough when he's in good shape. Christie, am I right about this? Jim is fun until he gets bored and I can't see Uncle Ed and Aunt Jean keeping him mentally stimulated with the morning farm reports or the nightly obituaries on the radio."_

"We'll be back at the farm before the two of you get finished shopping."

The second call didn't go as well as the first.

"_He what! Your brother's guide dog found a body; found five bodies! For God's sake Ricky, this is Christmas vacation. This is the first time Jimmy's been back since his accident and he and his frigging Seeing Eye dog stumble on a mass grave?"_

Rick got out and started pacing round the SUV. "It wasn't like he intended too. We got to the scene and Jimmy just walked Hank around and stumbled over the grave." Rick pulled his cell phone as far from his ear as possible but he could still hear Joyce; and now Christie too; demanding to know just what was he thinking. "But," he tried to cut in, the women didn't stop. "But," he tried again and didn't get any further than the first try. Finally Rick whistled into the phone. "Joyce; Jefferies the jerk demanded he talk to Jimmy at headquarters and he said he would make sure Jim got home tonight. There wasn't a whole hell of a lot I could do about it. Now I can probably be outta here by midnight if forensics thinks they have everything. They found a black smith's forge something's been burned in so they're taking the whole damn thing to the lab. Believe it or not that is speeding things up. Love you. Hope supper is reheatable." He snapped the phone shut knowing he'd be eating peanut butter tonight.

When the cell rang a third time Rick snapped, "What!"

* * *

When low, snow laden clouds obscured the pale stars; the night was deep, cloying black. Christmas lights that wound round front yard trees, fences and houses shone like pooled rainbows on the snow. As Tom Dunbar drove silently through the dark night he switched off his headlights and slowed down to a crawl.

"Taking the scenic route," Jim snarled as he flipped his watch crystal open to check the time. "I would like to get there before Santa."

"We'll get there when we get there," Tom mumbled as he squinted into the darkness. The lights of Springfield glowed ahead so Tom popped on the lights and sped toward the town. "Is this better?"

"Sure is, Tommy," Jim's over sweet voice was meant to be annoying as it was, "and maybe the wild teens on the snowmobiles would like to race us?"

"Snowmobilers," Tom swung his head to check behind, jerking the car over the rutted snow.

With high whines of three machines caught up with Tom Dunbar's car. They circled in ever tightening rings forcing Tom to stomp on the brakes as he snapped on the high beam. Now he could see just what was going on, but it was the same anonymous black clad riders from before.

"What the hell is going on," Jim's voice ground out.

"We've got trouble; let me take care of this."

The car shook when one of the black clad men pounded on the driver's side window.

"Its kinda dark driving with your lights out, mister," the voice was muffled by the black ski mask. "It looks real suspicious like, you know."

"Hey, who's the idjits in the station wagon," the voice could hardly be heard over the whine of the snow machine.

Tom flinched when the first man shown a high powered flashlight in his face. "It's Spider's kid's shop teacher, Mr. Dunbar."

"Ain't his brother a cop," the other voice was harder now.

The light swung over to Jim. "It ain't the cop."

Tom broke in, "this is my brother, Ja… Jim, from New York, he's visiting for Christmas." Then Tom waved his hands in front of his eyes. He hoped and prayed his big mouthed brother would play along just this once.

Using exaggerated movements Jim tilted his head, snapped open his watch and checked the time. "We have to get going, my dog needs to be fed soon."

The rider checked the back seat and laughed when he saw Hank. "So, we got two Mr. Dunbars here and no Trooper Dunbar," howled their disguised inquisitor, "and you both need to get off the road right now. It ain't safe out here tonight."

"Please," Jim broke in, "my wife and son are waiting on my uncle's farm and it's the other side of Springfield."

"Too far, get off the roads now, if you know what's healthy." With the man went back to the snow mobile and waited for Tom to leave.

"What do we do now," Tom voice shook as he started the car.

"We find someplace to go and get the hell off the road. There is no way I am getting caught in the middle of a gang war."

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks you for all your kind reviews. Florence, Beth, Ashantii... it is so nice that you took the time to let me know what you thought of my work. Also, thank you, Alice, for jumping on my mistakes, mis-spellings and inadvertant Canadianisms.

**Frozen **

Chapter 5

The night was as black as pitch; it demanded a driver give his full attention to the road ahead, but Rick Dunbar wasn't giving the road even half his attention. He had one hand on the steering wheel while he stabbed the keypad of his phone harder and harder with the other. His target was unreachable at home, at the office or on his cell. Well, time to play Mountie and get his man no matter where the chips fall.

"Sergeant Dunbar, how did you get this number?"

"Captain Jefferies, just because you're not at the office doesn't mean you're not with your secretary. Now, you will listen to me; I've heard from my snitch and it seems that that Hell's Angel, Spider, doesn't like that we found those bodies. I don't know why he wanted the bodies there, they would have been found in the spring."

"Rick," Jefferies finally sounded like he was thinking like a police officer and finally using his investigative skills, "you know the possibilities of identification decreases with amount of decomp. If there aren't any dental x-rays, DNA profiles or tattoos and scars then these men stay John Does. Now there is hope that we can find out who they are and why someone wanted them dead."

Rick sighed, "So if those kids hadn't tried to find a place to party the killers would have had exactly wheat they wanted."

Jefferies was silent for a time. "Rick, I'm sending a car to check on your brother. If those thugs find out it was the _other_ Sergeant Dunbar who spoiled their plan they will make an example of him."

Rick hung up on Jefferies and then dialled Tom's cell. It went straight to voice mail. Damn.

* * *

Tom's eyes shifted from one side of the road to the other, looking for someplace to stop without putting anyone else in harm's way. Where, where, where the hell was he going to go?

"What do I do now?" he whispered.

"Get off the damn road!"

"Yeah, you're a whole hell of a lot of help. You've got no idea where to go from here."

Jim twisted in his seat and ground his teeth in frustration. "Pull off at the next opportunity, I don't care if it's a barn, an empty house, a full house or an out house; get off the road now."

Tom saw a culvert that lead to a lane between fields. Against his better judgement he turned his station wagon left into the fields and followed the rutted path. A cedar wind break marked the property line and the branches that brushed the sides of the car sounded eerily like fingers reaching out for them. Soon he came to a wire fence that marked the end of the property and shut off the car.

Leaning back in his seat, emotionally exhausted and physically spent, Tom Dunbar turned to his oldest brother. "Now what," he asked in a dispirited voice.

"Can the car be seen from the road here?" Jim voice was sharper than he intended. Tom always brought out the worst in him.

"Not unless you're looking for it. By the way this snow's falling the car and the tire tracks'll soon be invisible. "

"Good," Jim tried to keep his voice low, "you are going to relax while I take Hank off his harness. He can't guide me when I don't know where I'm going. Then we are going to phone someone and try to get some help."

"Reception out here is pretty iffy, but we should be able to get someone." Tom closed his eyes. "I just need to relax for a few minutes. I'm not used to playing dangerous games like this."

Jim shook his head, "Tommy, this ain't no game."

* * *

There didn't seem much left to do, the autopsies would not be done until morning and the forensics lab didn't open until eight am. Rick was cold, dirty, exhausted and really not ready to face Jimmy after he had to spend alone time with Tommy. If Rick avoided the inevitable rant it wouldn't make either of his brothers ready for Uncle Ed's party so he decided to head to the farm tonight and defuse the situation.

Pulling into the Graham's driveway Rick couldn't believe the lights were still on in the house. He hadn't even gotten the SUV turned off when Uncle Ed, Christie and Joyce scrambled out the door.

"Jimmy, where have you been," Christie demanded before she realized that her husband wasn't there. "Rick, where is Jimmy?"

"I thought he'd be home by now." He turned to his uncle, "did he have your cell phone with him?"

"I don't have one of those damn things, if he's got one it's his own."

"Jimmy has his own phone," Christie let them know, "he never goes anywhere without one. He'd call if anything was wrong."

Ed Graham was not about to let his family stand out in the cold. "Everybody, get inside. Tell Jeannie to make up some coffee and Christie here is gonna phone Jimmy. Now, git." Then he waited while the women headed inside before he turned to his nephew. "Ricky, I know my boy can take care of himself in the city, but if Jimmy gets hurt out here, I don't know what I'd do."

Rick threw his arm over his uncle's shoulder and pulled him close. "Jimmy's too smart to get hurt and Tommy will be there."

"Damn," Ed gave a forlorn chuckle, "that ain't no reassurance, Ricky. Sometimes I think that boy ain't worth the powder to blow him to hell."

"Uncle, I'm dirty, I'm tired and I have to trust that Jimmy and Tommy will phone if they're in trouble." Rick pulled his uncle toward the house, "let's go inside, I need that coffee." That was when his cell phone rang. Ed watched as his nephew snapped open his phone, listened and then turned around and ran to his SUV.

"Ricky!"

"Tell Joyce I'm heading to Pendleton and keep her here." Rick threw open the truck door with enough force it nearly came off its hinges. "Please just keep her here. Don't let her phone home. I'll call you when I know what's happening."

"Richard George Dunbar, what is going on?" Ed was nearly in tears.

"Someone shot at my house; the boys were there alone. Thank God they phoned headquarters. Jefferies sent a squad car there and wants me back at headquarters. I'll call as soon as I know what the hell is going on."

* * *

Jim leaned against a fence post and sent a long breath in the cold air and imagined the smoky cloud he made. The snowflakes that had been falling lightly all day were coming down harder and faster now. If he and Tom were going to make it to some kind of shelter they would have to leave now, so he reached down, grabbed Hank's leash and headed to the car.

"Have you tried to phone Margaret?" Jim asked Tom as he opened the passenger side door.

"I forgot my phone," Tom mumbled.

"That's just frigging dandy, I've tried to phone Christie and Uncle Ed, but my phone's reception isn't good enough." Jim leaned his head against the door sill and tried to gather his thoughts. "Get out; I need you to tell me if you can see someplace close we can walk to." With that Jim straightened up and slammed the door shut.

Tom Dunbar stepped out of his car, cursing silently as the snow covered his dress shoes and soaked into his socks. This might be a good time to tell his big brother to go to hell, but the thought of those men and their guns made cold feet the better option. He swivelled his head around and saw two farms in easy walking distance. One was brightly lit, definitely occupied and Tom did not want to bring danger to anyone who might be there. The other was dark with only an automatic light illuminating the driveway, garage and barn. Whoever lived there was probably celebrating Christmas somewhere else; probably Disney World or some other place warmer than here.

"I see a place we can head to, we will probably get better phone reception there. The house is dark but we will likely get into the barn. At least we'll be out of the cold."

"No other place to go," Jim really did not want to spend the night in a barn.

"No, it's our best bet." Tom said in his best teacher's voice. Remembering the lessons he learned when a visually impaired student was integrated into the high school Tom touched the back of Jim's hand signalling he was ready to lead Jim to the farm stead.

Jim turned his face to his brother; he had not expected Tom to know the way to be an effective guide. "Thanks, kid, time to head out."

Keeping to the property line Tom lead Jim forward with only a few mishaps. But, by the time they'd reached the back of the cattle barn he wished he had headed to the other farm. The only thing that was certain was that someone had to be here in the morning to milk the cows, but that also meant that the barn was probably locked up tight. The snow was drifting high against the side of the building and Tom was trying to decide what the repercussions of breaking into the house would have on his father-in-law's political aspirations when he saw the slanting doors that covered the entrance of a storm cellar.

"Wait here, I have to check something," Tom said as he jerked away from Jim's hold and headed to the storm cellar. There didn't seem to be any locks on the doors and with a little bit of effort he managed to get them open. With that he rushed back to Jim. "The storm cellar is open, we can stay there until either someone comes to get us or morning."

"Whichever one comes first," snarked Jim as he reached for his brother's arm to be taken out of the cold. Still, he couldn't complain; Tom had gotten them out of the cold and snow and into someplace where they would be safe. As soon as they were settled in Jim would be phoning Christie and Rick, damn, whoever he could get hold of and end this ridiculous adventure. Next time Rick suggested he ride along Jim had a short, three word answer for him and one of those words would be NO.

tbc


	6. Chapter 6

See, I am still working on this. Just been spreading myself a little thin.

**Frozen **

**Part Six**

The air in the storm cellar had a stale, closed-in smell. Jim heard his brother rush down the stairs and fumble for something that finally gave a loud snap.

"Opened an air exchange," Tom's voice echoed off the walls of the small space, "and after I light these kerosene lamps we'll be all set."

"You do that," Jim winced; he just couldn't keep his sarcasm in check with Tom. "When you're done you can tell me what it's like in here."

Tom pulled the glass chimneys from two of the lamps before he glanced over his shoulder as his brother. "Sure, just watch… be careful where you're going; some teddy bears are having a picnic in the middle of the floor." Tom lighted the lamps, "this place is small and maybe we'll get some heat from these."

Jim dropped Hank's leash and carefully slid his foot forward. It bumped into something soft; the teddy bears. "What else is in here?"

"There're bunk beds on the left, a card table and chairs propped beside some shelves and a whole lot of camping gear piled in the back by the air exchange vent. They obviously use this place to store their stuff." Tom settled on the bottom bunk and watched his brother reach out and explore the place. "I told you what was here; don't you trust anything I say?"

"Damn it, Tommy, just when did you become king of the fucking world? What's here and knowing where that stuff is, is two different things."

"Why do I even bother trying to help you? Go ahead, crash into the walls, knock yourself out; literally… you'll probably do a better job at it if you back up a couple of steps and then run like hell."

Jim stopped his search, stood up straight and turned toward Tom. Tom cringed, waiting for Jim to take a swing at him when his big brother started to laugh.

"Hey kid," Jim chuckled, "another piece of backbone just popped in there." He stepped to the left, found the bunk and sat down next to Tom. "I think this could turn into an interesting evening."

0o0o0

Police cars, their lights flashing blue and red brighter than any Christmas display, surrounded the split level Rick and Joyce Dunbar called home. Rick slid his SUV to a stop, his front bumper skidding into a squad car before he opened his door.

Rick grabbed the first trooper he met, swung him around and grabbed his shoulders. "What the Hell is going on here?"

"Sergeant Dunbar, it seems some idiots on snowmobiles took pot shots at your house," the officer gently pushed Rick off. "Would you believe one of the geniuses actually ran his machine into a culvert and knocked himself out cold?"

"I don't give a good god damn about that right now. Where are my boys? How are my boys?"

"They're in the house. Joan Smith is with them, feeding them ice cream in the kitchen."

Without another thought Rick took off running to his boys. Once he made sure his sons were safe Rick Dunbar would take care of the shooter. He just hoped someone was there so he didn't kill the bastard.

0o0o0

Tom Dunbar snooped; Jim could hear him opening doors, shuffling paper, shifting boxes.

"What are you looking for?"

Tom jumped, "why do you think I'm looking for anything?"

"Because I'm blind, not deaf and you're making enough noise for ten men. Why don't you sit down and relax. I promise I don't bite."

"You promise a lot of things," Tom dropped on top of the pile of sleeping bags. "I'd get real old waiting for you to keep them all."

Jim scrubbed his hand across his face. This was an old wound that never healed and he decided it was about time to end the bad feelings once and for all. "How about you tell me what promises I didn't keep."

"Nothing," the monotone reply told Jim that this was really something.

"Come on, Tommy, I can't fix what I don't know is broken." He turned to his brother.

Tom was up and pacing. "How many damn times do I have to say I hate being called Tommy? You don't have the right to call me Tommy. Dad called me Tommy and you sure aren't Dad."

Jim jumped to his feet. "That's something I thank God for every single day."

"Shut up!" Tom twisted round landed a round house punch into Jim's jaw. "You got no right to say anything about my Dad."

0o0o0

Rick Dunbar paced outside the emergency room cubicle. He could hear the neurological testing and the little crap artist got all the answers right. This was Bob Severs' kid Dennis; out at night and running with gang bangers, probably a gang banger himself. It was enough to make him want to spit.

"Dunbar," Robert Severs now barreled straight at him. "What the hell are you doing, arresting Denny?"

"Mr. Severs, would you please calm down." Rick fell into his trooper persona with unthinking ease. "Your son, Dennis, was found at the scene of a drive by shooting with a hand gun in his possession."

Severs bellowed, "My son doesn't even have a driver's license and I had the damn car with me."

"But you didn't have your snow mobile, did you?" Rick's voice was deadly serious. "Tonight there have been at least six snow mobiles, some with two riders, terrorizing the country side; harassing the local citizens." Rick dropped his cop voice. "Bob, Denny is only fourteen, but sometimes it's easy to get tempted by easy money and big toys. Let's see if we get him back on the right path before his involvement get too deep."

Bob Severs seemed to deflate. "Denny's a good kid, he's just bored."

"I know," Rick put his hand firmly on Severs shoulder. "I want to have Dennis questioned as soon as the doctors are finished with him. We'll get someone with youth justice experience to do the interrogation and you will sit in on it. We'll go completely by the book."

"Thanks, Sergeant. You're a fair man."

"You're lucky I am."

0o0o0

"Hank, down," Jim commanded his agitated guide dog as he rubbed his jaw, wishing the taste of blood would just disappear from his mouth, "Okay, so does that make you feel better?"

"No, it doesn't… but who's going protect Dad now that he's gone?"

"Tom, Dad was an alcoholic, wife beating, small time hood."

"So I've been told." Tom Dunbar spat at his older brother, his blind brother. Oh god, he'd punched out the brother he was actually trying to protect. "You say that, Rick says that, but that isn't the father I remember."

"Well then your memory is defective. Stanley Dunbar never held a job longer than necessary to collect unemployment insurance. Stanley Dunbar ran numbers in Red Hook. Stanley Dunbar would drink up the rent money, gamble away the grocery money and then he'd steal anything he could pawn for so he could drink some more."

"You think I haven't been told that before!" and then something flew past his head.

He jumped up and banged his head on the top bunk. "What the hell was that?"

Tom whispered, "a bed."

"Tom," Jim snarled, "what did you throw at me?"

"A teddy bear."

The silence stretched on one beat… two beats…

"A teddy bear," Jim started laughing, "I was assaulted, with extreme prejudice, by a teddy bear."

Tom answered "I had to; a dolly would have left marks."

Then, for the first time in years, these Dunbar boys were laughing together.

tbc


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks Beth, Hoosier, ashatanii, Kasman, Katknit00, Chris10e and just everyone for the push to get this next piece done. Believe me, even if you name isn't mentioned I appreciate the comments you send. A special hug for girlwithoutfear. Do you ever sleep?

**Frozen**

**Part 7**

Tom picked up the teddy bear, trying to reconcile himself to heaving it at the brother he was trying so hard to protect. "He was there when I got home from school. You were always somewhere else. I remember Mary Ellen Hanmore was there more than you were."

Jim chuckled, "That's because I was going out with Teri Martinelli at the time."

Tom gripped the toy so tightly his hands shook. "Which one was she? You always had some girl or other around."

Jim frowned, "I was a good looking guy and girls just flocked to the old Dunbar charm."

"Excuse me while I gag a bit." Jim's smile almost made Tom want to beat him with the damn teddy… again. "Dad always said you were a dog. You were a dog, Rick was a push over and I was his little man. He'd take me to school, he'd sit and watch TV with me and he really gave a damn about me. So he wasn't worth the powder to blow him to hell, so what. He was around when you weren't."

"So, what am I supposed to do about that now?" Jim reached out, searching for his brother, remembering this was the very phrase Uncle Ed used to describe Tom earlier today. "Come here, I think you need to let it all out. Hell, I'll even let you try to belt me again, just remember I know how to hit back."

Tom dropped beside Jim on the bunk. "Goody; bruises and dog bites, what more could a man want from his brother?"

"Well, it is Christmas."

0o0o0

Rick pointed the SUV back into Uncle Ed Graham's driveway, glad his boys were with him. His son, Josh, wanted to stay home, look after his brothers and get the baby sitting money he'd been promised. Rick didn't think gunfire was part of what a baby sitter was supposed to expect so they brought the family to Uncle Ed's farm. Still, soon his boys would be safe inside the old house but his brothers were still out somewhere on the Indiana plain and there was nothing Rick could do for them.

"Josh," he nudged his oldest, "wake up, kid. We're here. I'll carry Benny in if you help Caleb inside."

"Sure, Papa," Josh rubbed his eyes before he gave his brother a shake. "Come on squirt, we gotta move."

Rick hefted Benny and waited for Josh as he helped Caleb out of the truck. "All aboard for the bed time express." Not for him, he had to turn round again and find his brothers. Joyce and Christie were by the door, their faces mirrors of their inner emotions: Joyce just so damn happy to see her men and Christie whey faced; her eyes filled with unshed tears.

"Don't just stand there," Rick slipped Benny into Christie's arms, "Santa is going to have a hard enough time finding my guys if we don't make it home tomorrow, having them out of bed is going to be even harder to explain if the old elf finds them here."

Benny stirred, "Aunt Chrissie, can I see Jaime?"

"Sure, you can sleep right beside him." She smiled at the small distraction in her arms, "and then Daddy has a lot to explain to me before Santa gets here."

0o0o0

"Why didn't you come with us to Indiana?"

"I was older, had plans. I had already enlisted because the army got me into college and college got me into the force."

"Dad hated cops." Tom's words were uttered in a monotone.

Jim smirked, "that made being in the NYPD all the more rewarding."

"It made not being a cop all the more rewarding. At least Dad would be proud for me for… hey, did you hear that?"

_Okay, might as well humour him. I smell kerosene, the cold bite isn't so bad because I can still feel my fingers and nose and the wind is blowing snow against the door. Hold it, there was more than wind. _"Snowmobiles," Jim rose and edged to the door of the storm cellar. Outside, blended with the steady sweep of the wind was the mechanical roar of those damn machines. "Tom, is there something you aren't telling me?"

"The kids on the snow mobiles, they were all carrying guns." Tom knew his voice was shaking. "I even recognized a few, kids from my industrial arts classes and some I had seen as a guidance counsellor. They were searching for someone and I knew it couldn't be you so I did my best to protect you."

"Tom, I was at a crime scene today and discovered a mass grave. They probably think I know something so those kids are probably after me."

0o0o0

"I've got to get out there," Rick tried to get past his Uncle.

"You ain't too big to take to the woodshed," Ed Graham crossed his arms over his chest and glared. "Its bad enough Jimmy and Tom are out in that storm. Sides, Tom's got enough sense to get in outta the snow. They're just holed up somewhere, probably drinking whiskey and insultin' each other."

Joyce's hand fell gently on Rick's shoulder. "Ed's right. What good will it do if all three of you were out there. Your mother is worried enough as it is, she's been on the phone with the Church ladies for the past three hours. If someone has seen them we'll know soon." She felt Rick relax so she swung him round to look into his eyes. "As for that 'drive by shooting'; I bet it was just bored kids looking for trouble. Did the mail box get killed?"

"No, but our inflatable Rudolph will never be the same." Rick wrapped his arms around his wife. "Listen, I'll grab a coffee and wait to hear from Mom, but then I'll probably have to leave again. Big bad police man here; remember?"

"Sit tight," Ed said as he headed to the kitchen, "and wait for the gossiping grannies to finish up. Those ladies are better'n CNN for local news. Hell, since they got speed dial those old biddies barely miss the party lines they used't listen in on. Hell, they prob'ly knows more about what's going on around here than your whole fancy dancy police snooper fellers know."

0o0o0

_One or two, one or two… or even three. _"How many are out there?"

"You're the cop, Jim." Tom's angry voice so low it barely reached his brother's ears. "I am just a lowly school teacher, so I am not sticking my head out there to count just how many hoodlums make a mob."

"I'm not that good at counting hoodlums unless I can touch them; and if I touch these assholes they are going to be unconscious." Jim chewed his lip as he thought. "Is there any way they can see our foot prints in the snow?"

"No, the wind's too strong. It would have blown them away."

"One point for the good guys, what about the lamps? Is it possible to see the light through the door?"

Tom crept over to the door, checking to see if the light could escape and giving it an experimental shoulder shove. "I think there's enough snow blown in front of it that the light's blocked but we can still get out if we have to." He looked at Jim, hoping to get some reassurance that they were safe.

"All we can hope for is that they don't decide to check every silo, shed and lean-to on the property and if I were one of the snowmobile boys, that is exactly what I would do."

tbc


	8. Chapter 8

**Frozen**

**Part 8**

Click  
Snap  
Slide

A bloodshot eye peered over a rusted chain lock, "What do you want, Dunbar?"

"I see you've learned to lock your door at night, Myers, but you seem to be a bit excessive." Sergeant Richard Dunbar said in his best, don't fuck with me voice.

Ken Myers did his best to imitate that command voice but all that came out was a wavering croak. "It's damn near midnight, what do you think you're doing waking a man up this time of night?"

"I want you to tell me who was using your shed."

"I already told you I don't know," Myers tried to shove the door closed, but that damn Dunbar kid didn't budge.

"That I can't believe, a man knows what's happening on his land. Where's Tess, Ken? I want to talk to her." Rick waited.

"She's sleeping." Ken Myers eyes dropped, "you leave her alone."

"I can get a court order, Ken, take her to the station house. It'd probably scare her an awful lot. I understand it's better for your wife if she can be someplace that's familiar to her." Rick Dunbar's voice softened. "Ken, Tess still talks on the telephone to her old friends, the ones she still remembers, and she said some pretty interesting things about your tenants. Ken, its gotta be hard taking care of Tessie, Alzheimer's is worse for the ones watching it happen than the one who's got it. You help me and I'll do my best to help you."

If looks could kill, Rick Dunbar would have dropped on the spot. The thing was Ken Myers knew this was a man who would make good on anything he promised, or threatened, to do. Myers stepped back and opened the door.

0o0o0

Jim searched for anything that he could use as a weapon; his hands ghosting round boxes, over shelves, along the walls for anything that might protect him and his brother.

"What are you looking for?" Tom winced, he knew he sounded petulant and he didn't want to.

"I don't know," Jim shot back, "maybe something to stir the inner hoodlum in me."

"Careful," Tom grabbed Jim's shoulder and wrenched him back, "you almost knock over the lamps."

"You," Jim turned, found Tom and brought his hands down on his kid brother's shoulders. "You," he could feel Tom tense, ready to get punched, "you are a genius. Damn, it's so easy to forget what things are like."

"I'm a genius?"

"That's not important right now, Einstein, how much kerosene is left in those lamps?"

"Not much," Tom pulled from this uncomfortable embrace, "not much at all. But I bet there more somewhere in here. Nobody wants to be stuck in the dark in one of these places."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Jim could almost hear Tom wince, "come on kid, we've gotta find the rest of that kerosene. I just hope we don't have to use it."

0o0o0

The old bottle chattered against the glass, splashing whiskey on the kitchen table. "I rented out the main property $115 per acre per year to Harvey McDonald. It was the best I could get and then I figured I could work my second place with Tess with me. There were fewer acres and the shed I could fix up for Tess to stay while I worked. Then I got an offer to rent that piece, $100 per acre per year on the books and $400 per acre per year off the books. All I had to do was stay away." Myers slid the glass to the trooper.

Rick palmed the glass, swirling the amber liquid he couldn't drink while on duty before he spoke. "That would have been an awful tempting amount of money to turn away. Impossible really," he set the glass down. "Ken; you had to know this wasn't on the up and up."

Myers sneered. "Don't get all hoity toity on me, Dunbar. I'm all Tess has got and I ain't putting her in a home until I can't take care of her no more. That money helped and I never knew who they were and what they were doing over there. It was a numbered company."

"It was a chop shop. Ken, they were stealing cars and ripping them apart. Then someone decided this wasn't something to happen on their watch and five men were killed." Rick eyes bored into Myers until the man flinched.

"But I didn't know. I never looked. You can't get me on anything but avoiding taxes."

"You can go to prison for avoiding taxes." Rick drew in a calming breath, "Myers, time to get real; help me find these guys. We're not just talking car theft; we're talking murder. Five people were buried behind that shed."

"I didn't know."

"No matter how often you say that doesn't change the reality of the thing. You help us and I'll do my best to help you avoid jail time."

"Kenny, you have company," Tess Myers shuffled into the kitchen, playing with the buttons on her nightie. "Are you a new neighbor? I'll make some coffee for you."

Myers jumped up and wrapped his arm over his wife's shoulder. "It's late, sweetie, he's just going."

"No, no, no… we must give him lunch before goes to work. You know if we don't feed the hired help we won't get enough men at harvest time." shook off her husband's arm. "I'll just make you a sandwich and some soup."

Rick jumped up, "that's OK, I was just leaving. I just want to talk to Mr. Myers."

"Just wait a second, Dunbar, I'll call my cousin Em to come sit with Tessie and then we'll head out."

0o0o0

"There are two cans of kerosene on the top shelf, probably to keep out of reach of the kids who play here." Tom stretched to reach the square tins of lamp fuel. "What next?"

"Open one and keep it handy, in case someone busts through the door we'll be able to douse them quickly." Jim backs away when a canister was opened. "Man that stuff stinks."

"Jim, we can't set some kid on fire!"

"If whoever smells that, hopefully they will stop and let us get out using their snowmobile." Jim grinned, "You do know how to drive one of those things, I hope?"

"I have a pretty good idea how the things work and I'm a hands on learner if necessary."

Jim reached out for his brother. "Tom, I know this isn't what you're used to, but I have to tell you that you're doing a great job. I couldn't have managed this alone."

"Uh, thanks, but you can take care of yourself."

"Tom, there's a lot of things I can do, but find a shelter from the cold in a place I don't know is something I can't do. You really saved my skin tonight and if what I think needs to happen next happens you've got to be the one to do it." Jim ran his hand through his hair. "I had to learn to ask for help, maybe its time I learned to say I'm sorry too. But don't get mushy or anything right now, 'cause we are still up shit creek without a paddle. We get outta this and I promise we get Rick and have a group hug, okay."

"Yeah, thanks, I think. I've never been the hero before."

"Well, you better get used to it because I think someone is trying to open that door."

tbc


	9. Chapter 9

**Frozen**

Part 9

"Dah da da da dee da dah…"

"Do dah, do dah… For God's sake Tom, stop that, I can't hear what's going on outside." He flipped up his watch crystal to check the time. "Come to think of it, I don't think I've heard any motors for over fifteen minutes."

Though he was a jangling bundle of nerves, Tom calmed himself enough to listen to the world outside. There was still wind sweeping snow against the door, but the sound of engines was gone. It was then Tom realized he had pain in his face from grinding his teeth in anticipation of something painful… or even fatal.

"I don't know if I'm more worried about hearing those damn snow mobiles than not," Jim tipped his head back, closing his eyes and pulling in a long breath. "Do you think they gave up or just went looking for bigger guns?"

"You're asking me? I thought you were the one with all the bad guy fighting experience. Can I at least put the cap back on the kerosene can? You were right about one thing, this stuff stinks."

0o0o0

Rick Dunbar brought Ken Myers to the station house in Pendleton. He didn't want to embarrass the old man so Rick simply gave him a pen, a pad of paper and told Myers to write out his statement. This was when he escaped to the street to indulge in his secret vice and lit up a very illegal Cuban cigar. The world seemed very quiet. No cars, no trucks, not even snow mobiles broke the silence of the empty streets. Rick wasn't sure if it was the time of night, the time of year or the storm that was keeping the people off the streets.

"Sergeant Dunbar," a young trooper called from the door, "Mr. Myers is finished, do you want one of us to take them home?"

"No," Rick scowled; he'd barely got a chance to breathe in the rich rummy cigar smoke. "I'll run him back. It's on my way. Just give me a few minutes and we'll be going. "

He watched as Ken Myers shuffled to the SUV. Rick would get Myers and home and then take the man's cousin to her home. If he was really lucky Rick wouldn't fall asleep behind the wheel before the night was over. It was now officially Christmas Eve, time to be with his family rather than roaming the country roads of East Armpit, Indiana.

Rick stuffed his hands deep in his pockets. Damn, it was getting cold; with luck Tom and Jim were someplace warm. He knew there were a lot of places to hide, but he doubted Tom would bother to go anywhere that took any real effort to spend time alone with Jim. Maybe the fireworks between those two would be enough to keep them from freezing to death. Rick slid in beside Myers, knowing that the man was in more danger now than he ever imagined. Criminals didn't like witnesses and Ken Myers knew too much. The best Christmas present the old man could hope for was a place in the witness protection program.

Now if he could just find his brothers Rick Dunbar would be a happy man.

0o0o0

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Tom nearly jumped out of his skin, "Christ almighty, what the hell was that?"

"I think our company has finally arrived. Step back," Then Jim yelled, hoping his voice would carry over the sound of the storm. "Who's out there? Answer before you touch the door again."

"Hello, this is Trooper Smith, do you need any assistance?"

"God, yes," Tom ran and flung open the door; cold air pushed in with the young officer. "I didn't think anyone knew we were here." Tom ran back and forth, picking up this moving that trying to get the small area back the way he found it. It was as if an elastic band that had been pulled tighter and tighter was released and bounced from wall to wall.

"Tom, could you at least shut the door, its getting cold in here." Jim Dunbar chewed on his lip; this was just all too convenient, suddenly having the way out walk in. He reached down and rubbed Hank's back. "Nell, I need some food and water for my partner here."

"I've got water in my truck as well as coffee. Let's get outta here." Again wind slammed the door open letting cold air and snow rush in.

"Come on, big brother," Tom pulled on Jim's arm. "I'd like to get home before Christmas. Let's go."

Jim shook Tom off, squared his shoulders, got up and grabbed Hank's harness. "Yeah, let's go."

Nellie Smith's 4X4 truck pushed through the snow clogged roads to Pendleton. Jim sat in the back seat, head back, trying to block out Tom babbling to the Trooper so he could listen to what else was travelling through the night.

"What's that, a snow plow?"

"Yeah," Smith glanced over her shoulder, "the snow has actually stopped falling. Now it's just getting blown around. We should be in Pendleton soon. The guys at the station know we're coming, but I'm sure you're starving. How about I take you to my dad's diner for some food? You can phone your family from there."

"Good, I'm sure there were really worried about us." Tom dug in his pocket for his cell phone, "I bet I can reach them now. Who should I try first; Rick, Mom or the wives?"

"I wait if I were you," Smith moved her hand from the steering wheel to the recently revealed phone, "I don't know if the cell phone towers made it through the storm? Land lines usually fair better than the cells." She smiled at Tom, "trust me; I'm a cop, just like your brothers."

"I wouldn't use that line," Jim didn't bother to raise his head, "you'd have to assume he trusts his brothers."

0o0o0

Rick Dunbar and Ken Myers just pulled onto the highway on their way to the Meyers farm when they passed Pop's Place. Rick slowed the SUV as he passed the diner, unsure of what he saw. Making a quick u turn he headed that the way he came.

"Where do you think you're going," Myers yelped at the trooper, "this ain't the way to get home."

"I just have to check something out," Rick said as he wrestled the big vehicle on the icy pavement. "Something caught my eye, something that shouldn't be behind Pop's."

A small light shone out of the kitchen of the little restaurant, a light that shouldn't have been on when the diner was closed. But it was behind the diner that was the big surprise; five black snowmobiles were lined up by the dumpster out back. Five snowmobiles and no drivers, five snowmobiles and no passengers, five snowmobiles trying to hide in a space that couldn't hide one and hoping no one on the highway would notice they were there. And if Rick Dunbar had been traveling any faster he wouldn't have noticed those snowmobiles but after everything that happened that night snowmobiles were high on the list of things Dunbar was looking for.

"Mr. Myers we're heading back to the station house. There something I want you to do, because I have to head out as soon as I've dropped you off."

Rick squealed his SUV to a stop and scratched instructions on the back an envelope, "give this to the man at the desk and then wait for me. I might be a while but I promise I'll get you home. Tonight I'm gonna get everybody home."

0o0o0

Smith parked her pickup in front of her father's restaurant. "Dad's still here. He must be cleaning up; I knew he sent everybody home early today. That's Pop, a nice guy to his workers and he ends up doing all the dirty stuff just before Christmas."

"I thought we were heading to the station house," Jim said without lifting his head off the back of the seat. "There has got to be someone waiting to hear about us."

"Detective Dunbar, I said that I thought you might be hungry. I can call in from anywhere so if Dad was at the diner I planned to feed you first." Smith smiled at Tom Dunbar. "I'm betting there wasn't anything to eat in that storm cellar."

"Not a thing; and I don't know about you Jim but I'm getting pretty hungry." Tom turned to look at his older brother. "Maybe we better eat while we can; I'm hoping nobody is waiting up for us. Besides, I bet Hank needs to stretch his legs."

"When we get to Pop's I'll take the dog out while you to warm up." Smith smiled at Tom, "it's the least I can do."

Over my dead body, thought Jim, an all make sure it doesn't come to that.

tbc


	10. Chapter 10

This took far to long to get here. I thought this chapter would end the story, but it wouldn't do that. I apologize for taking so long, the epilogue will put the bow on this Christmassy tale

**Frozen **

**Part Ten**

The wind was still blowing. Pop's Place was on the highway and had no protection from the constant drifting of snow over the parking lot and against the building. Cold stung exposed skin and made anyone outside rush to a warm, safe inside as quickly as possible. Tom and Jim Dunbar followed Nellie Smith quickly into the diner by way of the back door. It wasn't locked although it really should have been. Jim just couldn't understand why Smith didn't have her own key. She was a state trooper and the owner's daughter. Pop should have known better, because anyone with a business on the highway knew that locked doors were the best way to keep the riffraff out.

Jim's police training was telling him…_Open doors, obviously the riffraff were supposed to come in_

"Poppa I finally found them," Nellie's voice echoed through the empty kitchen, "they were in the Williams' storm cellar."

"So, you guys were snug as bugs in rugs," laughed Pop. "When I heard youse guys were lost in the storm I figured we'd be digging you out of the snow bank."

Jim tipped his head to the left. There was something different about the way Pop Smith talked, his accent wasn't right. It wasn't Midwest and it definitely wasn't New York; what was it about this man's speech that caught his attention?

"I don't know about you," Tom groused as he pulled off his parka, "but the only place I want to visit now is the one with 'men' written on the door." He pushed past everyone in the kitchen and headed for the public washroom.

"I think I'll take Hank outside," Jim reached down and scratched his guide dog behind his ears, "he still hasn't learned how to read the signs of the bathroom doors."

"I can do that for you," Nellie reached for the dog's harness, "it's no trouble at all."

"No," Jim's voice cut the air like a shiv, "when Hank is in harness he's at work. He only goes out with me. " This was a lie but there was almost no way the trooper would know this. "If you could have a towel ready when I get back so I can dry him off that would be perfect." Before anyone could say anything to make them stop Jim turned and headed for the back door.

"You don't go out dere, you get lost, it dark outside," Pop's accent got thicker as he tried to block Jim inside.

"It's always dark," Jim smiled, "that's why Hank's a guide dog."

Trooper Smith turned to her father, "how about I keep an eye on Jim and his dog if it'll make you feel better?"

"How about instead you think bout going home, all de way home without stopping for nobody."

"Poppa, you don't mean that, do you?" Nellie's eyes snapped straight into her father's gaze. "It's almost Christmas; we've always been together at Christmas."

"No I take care o' things here; you go all the way home. Make me happy; do what I tell you."

Jim heard Trooper Smith's hesitant steps as she went to her father, kissed him once and went out the door. He knew she was never coming back. Jim just hoped that when Tom came out that he would have the good sense to do what his big brother told him.

"You're gonna take care of us, huh, Mr. Smith." Jim listened carefully to all the sounds that surrounded him. There was Smith's almost asthmatic wheeze from too many cigarettes and not enough exercise, the gurgle of water through the men's rooms pipes, and footsteps, more footsteps than three men could make. "How many friends have you got to help you take care of us?"

"_I send most o' them away; don' need much manpower to hide two bodies in snow?"_ Smith thought as he turned his back on Jim Dunbar. He was feeling comfortable. After all it was a blind man and a schoolteacher; they'd been missing for hours and he knew where Tom Dunbar's car was abandoned. Finding two frozen bodies in that car tomorrow morning was logical, even expected; this was almost too easy.

0o0o0

Rick Dunbar parked his SUV behind the snow drifts on the side of the highway opposite the diner. He knew backup would be there soon but he couldn't wait, he couldn't take the chance that something would happen to his brothers before anyone else got there. He had shrugged into the only fully outfitted white trooper's parka at the station house and prayed it would be enough camouflage to get him to the diner.

"Damn, damn, damn" Rick muttered under his breath, "why couldn't I have just left you at the farm Jimmy? I should've known you'd get me into trouble."

Crouching low, Rick sped across the highway and pressed himself into the snow banks there. He listened, hoping there would be more than just the sound of the wind beating at his ears; nothing, only the damned wind. He pulled his service revolver from its holster and carefully scuttled forward all the while listening for clues to where the snow mobilers were. The two-way radio at his shoulder crackled, "Dunbar, are you at the location?"

"I'm almost there," Rick whispered into the receiver, "request radio silence until I call for you."

"Roger, Dunbar, backup advancing to crossroads. Radio silence begins now. Good luck, Rick."

Soon he reached the entryway to the diner's huge parking lot. There was enough space for at least six eighteen wheelers in a place never meant to handle tractor trailers. God, how many times had he seen those high way menaces there when any truck-stop off the interstate had more to offer? Why hadn't he, or for that matter anyone, realized there was anything hinky going down? Drugs, money laundering, human trafficking; any of those or more could be going down under his nose and Richard Dunbar, Sergeant of the Indiana State Troopers never once questioned it because things like that didn't happen in the Midwest. All it took was for his brother, his _blind_ brother, to _stumble_ over barely hidden corpses for the whole operation to unravel.

"Shit, quit letting someone else do your job and get to work, Dunbar." Rick grabbed his radio receiver, "no lights visible in restaurant; no movement detectible from outside. Bring the cruisers in; no lights, no sirens, and go to the dumpster, the propane tank and the grease tank. There are seven suspects visible from here, let's get them before they warn the occupants of the diner."

"Roger that, Dunbar, we're on our way."

0o0o0

"I think it's time to phone my wife," Jim stood and reached for his cell phone.

"I don't tink so," Smith said as he grabbed Jim's hand. "You don' want I should break you wrist now, eh?"

"Pepe Le Pew," Jim snorted, "I knew I'd place that accent eventually. So I'm betting Smith isn't your name either. Is it Gauthier or Trudeau or maybe just Merde?"

Smith shoved Jim hard all the while twisting Dunbar's wrist. "Nobody call me dat. No you, not you stupid brother, not the whole o' dis stinking little town. By now my Nellie she is half way to Montreal and once I take care o' you I be right behind her." He pressed harder on Jim's wrist. "Maybe I have some fun fore you next little accident. Gouge you pretty blue eyes out; not like dey do anything for you, anyway. But first, maybe I kill you dog, eh?"

"Jim?" Tom Dunbar gasped when he exited the men's room.

"Tom, get back in!" Jim shouted as he twisted his body in the direction Smith had his wrist. Reaching for Smith's knees on the follow through Jim put counter force into every move his enemy tried, thanking God for every judo lesson he'd taken after the shooting. "And slam that door hard."

"You gotta watch you-self, friend," Smith ground out as he slammed his elbow into Jim's kidney. "Now I make you hurt… just be-cause I can... an… eeigh! Sonnabitch!"

"Street fighter," Jim rolled and pinned Smith beneath him, "you know how to fight dirty but you don't fight smart."

The sound of the back door being smashed was the second best sound Jim Dunbar wanted to hear right now.

"Indiana State Troopers, you are surrounded; put your hands on top of your heads," the voice of this brother, Rick, was the best sound Jim could imagine.

tbc


	11. Chapter 11

Thank you, Alice, my fearless beta reader. Thanks to all my readers, this story took longer than I expected and went in directions I didn't expect so I hope you were not disappointed. Oh, and Beth... sorry.

**Frozen **

**Epilogue**

"Hiding out from the in-laws and the out-laws," Rick Dunbar stage whispered when he found his brother, Jim, sitting on the sun porch with Jaime Jansen on his lap.

"No, we just needed some us time, didn't we kiddo," Jim said as he gave Jaime a tickle squeeze. "Okay, go find Benny and Caleb, 'cause I think Uncle Ricky wants to get mad at me." Jim grinned at the quick kiss Jaime laid on his cheek before he jumped off to find his new 'cousins'. "So, are you mad at me, Sergeant Dunbar?"

Rick threw himself down on the sofa beside his big brother. "God, how could I be mad at you when you gave me the biggest laugh this year. We couldn't find the fuehrer for over two hours and when we did… man, you should have seen Captain Jefferies, Jimmy. He looked like he was gonna pop an aneurysm right there at headquarters. I swear he must've been wearing a leather thong and chaps under that damn Santa Claus coat. The night sergeant had to use his _alternate _contact number to find him," Rick chortled.

"You're full of crap," Jim could barely talk through his laughter, "he'd have been an instant eunuch going out like that in the cold."

"I would never lie about that, I don't want to find coal in my stocking tomorrow… but then I don't want to find an IAB investigation when I get back to work." Rick sighed, "We got an ID on Pop Smith. He's Etienne Vermette originally from Chateauguay, Quebec. He's thought to be the number three man in the Hell's Angels Motorcycle Gang of Montreal. He knows where all the bodies are buried, unfortunately you found some."

"Oops!" Jim just didn't sound sorry.

"Nothing on Eleanor Vermette, nee Smith, we'll never see her again." Rick looked around for the youngest brother. "Have you heard from Tommy yet?"

"Not since you put him in a squad car and sent him home. He's supposed to be here tonight."

Rick tried not to sound to annoyed. "I wouldn't count on it, Jimmy; Margaret seems to think were all just one step above the street since her daddy decided to become a state senator. Kissing asses in corn country got old man McBride enough votes for the state senate and now he wants to go to Washington."

"Hey, we _are _one step from the streets and those are those nasty Red Hook streets."

"Not our Tommy, he's pure Indiana farm boy and when daddy-in-law says jump baby brother says up, up and away." Rick stood and stretched. "He was trying to do a good deed and take care of his poor, handicapped brother, something McBride would be proud to use in his next campaign, and then you end up saving him. Having your son-in-law cowering by a toilet instead of saving the day is not politically correct. Anyway, get off your butt and get a beer with me."

"Rick, that's the best thing you've said today."

Together Jim and Rick wandered into the kitchen and joined the rest of the family party.

Tom never even phoned in his regrets.

Fin


End file.
